


let me hear you

by inexhaustible



Series: call my name [1]
Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, don't be fooled the plot is only a thin veil for fluff, kazama gets a concussion, thats basically it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9299306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexhaustible/pseuds/inexhaustible
Summary: kazama is injured on the pitch. tsukushi tries to help him feel better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for checking this out! find me on tumblr (where you can send me requests) @tsukujin.
> 
> also, if you're a fan of shibakimi (ooshiba kiichi / kimishita atsushi), you can come hang with a bunch of us days writers in the shibakimi discord chat, here: https://discord.gg/6WvZdqr
> 
> this is kazatsuku, but there's a hint of kazama / tsukushi / kurusu (or affectionately: kazatsukuru) if you squint. i'm planning to write a companion / coda to this fic that does incorporate the ot3, but for now this is just kazatsuku.
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are deeply appreciated. thanks guys!

Jin doesn’t see it coming. 

He’s dribbling the ball across the field, trying to dodge the other team’s defense, when an opponent goes for the steal. Jin feels his leg impact with the defender’s, feels his balance waver for a split second before he’s falling. 

The other player turns in surprise, slamming his knee into the side of Jin’s head – 

– and it all goes black.

* * *

When Jin wakes up, he’s in a room that smells of sterile metal and disinfectant, fingers hooked up to a heart monitor and pain pounding hard behind his eyelids. There’s a faint ringing in his ears that intensifies when he tries to move, and he lets his eyes flutter open, letting out a pained noise at the onslaught of light and movement that threatens to burn a hole through his skull. 

_Is this what being hungover is like?_  Jin closes his eyes again, letting himself drift back into the calm white noise of unconsciousness.

“–zama. Kazama!” A voice cuts through the fog, muffled and unfamiliar.  _Is that Kurusu’s voice?_  He squeezes an eye open, glancing around the room until his gaze lands on the two situated across from his bed, feeling a smile tug at his lips.

Kurusu is standing, arms crossed, and behind him Jin can make out Tsukushi, sprawled out in the cheap plastic hospital chairs, asleep. Kurusu heaves in a sigh, throwing a thumb over his shoulder and pointing at Tsukushi.

“– wouldn’t leave … until I drove him … you,” Kurusu says, and Jin squints, trying to make out his words. Everything sounds distant and distorted, as if he’s trying to listen to words underwater. He can hear it fine, but something about the words’ meanings swim in his brain, wriggling away, just out of grasp. Vaguely, he recognizes that Kurusu’s still talking.

“Kurusu,” he interrupts. He pauses, looking over at Jin. Kurusu’s hair bounces in the air against his cheek, and Jin holds in the urge to laugh – because he’s not sure what’ll come out of his mouth if he does. 

 “I think there’s something wrong.”

* * *

 Jin’s diagnosed with a concussion, moderate hearing loss, and a mess of medical jargon that Jin’s too tired to sort through – it boils down, essentially, to this: something is wrong with the way his brain is processing sounds. He’ll have a tough time distinguishing voices from background noise, for god knows how long.

“It’s very likely temporary,” the doctor says, hands raised placatingly. “These symptoms are common in patients after they’ve suffered a head injury.” Jin nods, feeling emptied and hollow.  _Likely, but not definitely._

The nurses come in and out of his room, running test after test. Jin’s sleepy, and his head hurts, but he complies, feeling Tsukushi’s worried eyes on him. He tries to muster up a smile.

“I’ll be fine, Tsukushi,” Jin says, wishing he could get out of the bed. Tsukushi’s eyes are wet and wide, and he fidgets nervously with the hem of his shirt. Kurusu had left to get food for the two of them, leaving Jin alone with Tsukushi. Jin’s head still aches, and he’s sure that his temple is covered with a nasty bruise.

“You don’t look fine,” Tsukushi says, lightly, but his voice is weak, trembling. Jin feels strangely guilty. 

“You should go home,” he says, finally. Tsukushi stands up, and Jin thinks for a split second that he’s actually moving to leave before he steps past the door, sliding into the chair by Jin’s bedside. Jin turns to look at him, frowning.

“How long have you been hanging around here, Tsukushi?” Tsukushi looks away, face flushing.

“N-not that long,” he stammers out. Jin glares at him, reaching out his free arm to smack him lightly across the head. Tsukushi yelps, dipping his head, and Jin rolls his eyes, letting his fingers ruffle through his hair.

“Don’t waste your time,” Jin mutters, sighing and retracting his hand. “I’ll be fine, seriously.”

“If I go home, ah –” Tsukushi cuts himself off, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. “I’d just be worried about you anyways,” he says. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you though! I – I didn’t even think about that! I’m probably just a bother…” 

Jin takes a deep breath, counting to ten. Tsukushi’s voice has dropped to a mumble of self-deprecating noise, words escaping Jin’s ears. Jin exhales, and finds the patience to speak. 

“Tsukushi.” 

Tsukushi pauses, looking at him with wide eyes.  _You’re such a mess, honestly._

“I’m glad you stayed,” Jin says, finally, meeting his eyes.  _You’re not a bother, either._  “You’re a good friend, Tsukushi.” 

Tsukushi blinks in surprise, shaking his head before smiling, grasping Jin’s wrist, and Jin feels it buzz under his skin, liquid warmth sliding into his chest, into his bones. 

_Oh._

“Kazama-kun has been … friend I could have … I’m happy,” Tsukushi says, and Jin tries not to let his dismay show on his face when the words mix up and scatter in his head. His concentration isn’t helped by Tsukushi’s hand, a reassuring warmth where it encircles his wrist. It’s as if every sense in Jin’s body has zeroed in on that point of contact, shutting out everything else. 

Tsukushi yawns, breaking Jin’s train of thought. Jin hesitates before grabbing the extra pillow stacked under his shoulders, laying it over the railing of the hospital bed. 

“If you want,” Jin says, shrugging. “It’s probably more comfortable than those chairs.” Tsukushi begins to protest, but another yawn interrupts him, and he sinks blearily over, crossing his arms across the pillow and resting his head on them.  _What am I going to do with you?_

Tsukushi’s hand goes lax, and Jin slips his arm out of its grasp, raising it to rest a hand on the base of Tsukushi’s neck, stroking soft circles with his thumb through the downy hair there. Tsukushi makes a soft noise, relaxing into the touch, and Jin flushes, touches stuttering across Tsukushi’s skin. 

“Just go to sleep,” Jin mutters, and Tsukushi hums in acquiescence, turning minutely into Jin’s hand. A soft ache wraps around Jin’s chest, and he wonders what this is, what they are. When Tsukushi’s breathing softens and evens out, Jin lets himself relax, lets himself think. 

Jin knows he’s painfully fond of Tsukushi, to an embarrassing extent. He just doesn’t know what that extent is.

He’s a little surprised, if he’s being honest. Jin’s always liked girls, and even though Tsukushi’s not – well, not overly  _masculine_ , he’s certainly not Jin’s past type by any means. Jin’s had no shortage of girlfriends in the past, and it’s not as if he hadn’t liked them. 

_Still, I can like both, can’t I?_  He toys with the thought. It’s not as if he hasn’t thought about dating guys, too. He imagines holding hands with Tsukushi, dragging him into empty classrooms. Jin’s cheeks fill with warmth, and he wonders, for a split second, what Tsukushi’s lips would feel like against his own, before he stops himself. 

_Getting a little ahead of yourself, Jin._

 Jin doesn’t want to drag Tsukushi down to his level, wants to keep Tsukushi sheltered and innocent – despite how Jin already suspects, deep down, that Tsukushi hides more than he lets on, that he isn’t always as innocent as he seems. The thing is, no matter what, Tsukushi shines. Tsukushi is brilliant and clumsy and selfless and painfully oblivious at the worst of times, but he is  _kind_ , through and through – and Jin’s beginning to think that he might be in deeper than he’d thought. 

Tsukushi stirs in his sleep, prompting Jin to slide his hand gently up his neck and through his hair, feeling something drop in his stomach when Tsukushi makes a soft noise of contentment, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in his sleep. 

  _Ah – this’ll be a pain._

A rustle at the door grabs Jin’s attention, and his head snaps up to see Kurusu shuffle into the room, bento boxes in hand. Kurusu looks up, squinting at Tsukushi where he’s sprawled halfway across Jin’s bed, eyes flickering to Jin’s hand, still resting in Tsukushi’s hair. Jin shoots him a look, daring him to say something. There’s a moment of awkward silence before Kurusu drops the boxes he’s holding on a table, cheeks turning red. Kurusu turns to him, sliding  a hand through his bangs.

“I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” Kurusu asks, finally. Jin rolls his eyes, huffing out a breath.

_It’s not like that_ , Jin wants to say. 

“Don’t be crude,” Jin says instead, fixing his eyes on the food across the room.

“So, you two –” Kurusu starts. Jin interrupts him before he can even get his sentence out.

“We’re not like that,” Jin says, with a weak laugh. Jin thinks he sees something like relief flicker across Kurusu’s face, and something cold crystallizes in the pit of his stomach.  _Would it be so bad if we were, though?_  Something shows on Jin’s face, because Kurusu holds up his hands, shaking his head.

“It’s – it’s not a problem, y’know, if you, uh – if you are. Which you’re not. You’re not, right?” Kurusu stammers. Jin resists the urge to bury his head in his hands – the awkwardness of the situation is rising at uncomfortable speeds.

“No,” Jin replies, flatly. Kurusu’s face is red, and he turns away, taking a bento out of the bag. A beat passes before Jin stretches, heaving a weary breath.

“Kurusu,” he calls. “Can you pass me some food?” Kurusu whirls around, jaw tensed.

“Oi, Kazama, can you pass me some money?” he returns, pointing at Tsukushi. “This little gremlin’s been eating up all my money and always forgetting to pay me back – don’t tell me you’re about to start, too.”

“This is mistreatment,” Jin says, pouting. “I’m sick and I’m concussed and I’m injured. Do you have no heart?” Jin flutters his eyelashes, blinking a few times innocently at Kurusu, who looks steadfastly downwards.  _Is he blushing?_

Kurusu lets out an irritated growl, getting to his feet. The hospital chair grates backwards, scraping against the floor, and Jin winces at the harsh noise. Kurusu shoots him an apologetic glance and walks over, passing Jin the bento along with his chopsticks.  _Success._

“Take some,” Kurusu grits out, sighing. “You’re such a brat, Kazama.”

“And  _you’re_  such a selfish prick, Kurusu. Learn to share,” Jin says, but he grabs the box and takes a bite of some gyoza with an appreciative hum. Gently, he prods Tsukushi with his hand, trying not to show his fondness when Tsukushi makes a sleepy noise, opening his eyes reluctantly. 

Kurusu mutters something that Jin doesn’t catch. Out of Jin’s infinite mercy, he lets it go.

“Hey,” Jin murmurs, and Tsukushi looks up at him blearily, giving him a small smile. “Food’s here.”

“You’re welcome,” Kurusu adds, from the other side of Jin, snatching back his bento box. Jin deflates. 

“Hospital food is cruel and unusual punishment,” Jin hisses at Kurusu, who dodges Jin’s attempt to reacquire his dinner. 

Tsukushi laughs at their antics, and tugs on Jin’s wrist. 

“You can take some of mine,” he says, beaming, and Jin feels himself smile in return, tipping his head to the side. 

“Thanks, Tsukushi!” 

Kurusu coughs, and Jin throws a pillow at his face. It hits its mark with a soft  _whump_ , and Kurusu lets out a surprised yelp. Tsukushi retrieves his bento and returns to his seat, offering Jin the first bite. He takes it, gratefully, and the three lapse into comfortable silence, eating their meals. 

Jin pretends that the absolute silence doesn’t scare him, pretends that the way he can’t hear any background noise doesn’t make something uneasy crawl beneath his skin. 

* * *

Jin is released from the hospital a day later. He’s referred to an audiologist, his appointment set for a week later. He’s not nervous about the results, he tells himself. 

It’s a weak lie, even for him. 

When he gets to class, Jin realizes two things: the first is that he can’t make out a word the teacher is saying. 

The second is that he’s developed an embarrassing crush on one Tsukamoto Tsukushi, and that’s almost more alarming. 

“Kazama,” the teacher calls. 

“Yes,” he says, sitting up. 

The teacher asks him something about polite conjugation forms, and Jin squints at the teacher’s lips, trying to read what he’s saying – to no avail. 

“Ah – no idea,” he says, flippantly, though he feels pale, shaky.  _I really can’t make out what he’s saying at all, huh._ Tsukushi turns, glancing at him worriedly, and Jin feels as if he’s transparent. He puts on a self-assured smile, shaking his head slightly, and Tsukushi frowns but turns back around. 

By the end of the period, his notebook is blank, and he’s absorbed nothing except the vague diagrams the teacher had scrawled on the board. 

“Kazama-kun,” Tsukushi calls, pulling up a chair by his desk. He fixes Jin with a level stare, and Jin feels strangely unnerved. “You – ah, you can’t hear, can you?”

Jin’s taken aback for a split second before he recollects himself, looking away. 

“...Yeah,” he admits, twirling a pen in his fingers nervously. “The teacher’s voice is – muffled, to me. It doesn’t work out.”

Tsukushi looks at him thoughtfully, before perking up. “I can just take notes for you!” 

_His voice is so bright. It’s barely changed._

“That’s really generous of you, Tsukushi,” he says, hesitantly. “But don’t you need the notes as well?” 

Tsukushi’s gaze flickers away, cheeks flaming. “I usually don’t take notes, actually…” 

“I don’t either, normally.”  _Probably for different reasons, though._ “But I guess for the time being, I won’t be able to get the lectures any other way.”

“Alright – don’t worry, leave it to me! I’ll try my best!” Tsukushi grins, and Jin feels himself flush, hears the beat of his heart fall out of line and quicken. 

“Are you sure it won’t cause you any trouble?” he asks half-heartedly. 

Tsukushi shakes his head. “Kazama-kun’s already done so much for me – this is the least I can do!” Jin winces a little, at that, because what was he supposed to have done – stand by and watch Tsukushi get beaten to a pulp? 

_That’s what everyone else did,_ he thinks, a sudden, familiar surge of protectiveness rising in him.  _Nobody bothered to help him._ It’s a realization that makes something ache in his chest, because Tsukushi deserves so much: he is kind and selfless and spirited, and Jin doesn’t know how Tsukushi’s been alone for so long.  _The worst part is that he believed everything those assholes fed him. He really thinks that he’s useless, just a burden._

Jin wants to keep that smile on Tsukushi’s face for the rest of his life. 

“It’s decided, then,” Jin says, finally. “Just try to jot down the main ideas of what the teacher says, I can study the rest myself.” Tsukushi nods furiously, but pauses, looking up at Jin with a concerned expression. 

“Kazama-kun,” Tsukushi starts. “Is your head still bothering you? There’s a lot of noise, right?”

Jin wants to laugh, because of  _course_  Tsukushi’s remembered that.  _He’s almost painfully considerate, really, when it comes to things like this._ Jin thinks about the time his mother came to watch his match, the way Tsukushi had revealed his injury to the entire team. 

_I was furious, then. But he did it because he didn’t want to see me hurt, huh._

“Yeah,” Jin says, reluctantly. “My head isn’t feeling too great. Too much noise to sort through.” 

Tsukushi purses his lips. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You’re already helping enough as is, Tsukushi – seriously, the notes will be great.”

“If you say so,” Tsukushi sighs, doubtfully, before looking up at him.

“I have an idea!”

Jin stares, a little afraid to ask. “Mm?”

“Turn around, Kazama-kun,” Tsukushi says, thoughtfully. Jin complies, confused. “My mom does this sometimes when I get a headache.”

Gentle hands card carefully through his hair, massaging waves into his scalp. Tsukushi avoids the bump on the side of his head where he’d been kicked, and the light pressure works wonders at relieving the tension in his brow, at his temples. Jin’s skin lights up, buzzing with satisfaction, and he wonders how much of it has to do with the fact that it’s  _Tsukushi_  touching him like this.  

“That’s really good,” Jin groans appreciatively, and Tsukushi goes silent behind him, hands stilling. 

“Why’d you stop?” Jin asks, tilting his head back to study him. Tsukushi’s face is bright red, and his gaze is locked on the ground below his feet. “Tsukushi?”

“A-ah! Sorry, I – I uh, got sidetracked!”  _Was he flustered, just now?_

Tsukushi’s hands continue their motions, and Jin lets out a breath. Jin closes his eyes, relaxing into the touches, and like this he can almost pretend that they’re caresses. Tsukushi’s fingers skate across his scalp, grazing his temples and swiping lightly over his forehead, and Jin feels as if his ears are bright red. 

“Tsukushi,” he murmurs, lowly, and this time Tsukushi stops entirely, extracting his hands from Jin’s hair and backing away. 

“B-better?” Tsukushi squeaks. Jin turns, noting the scarlet flush across his face.  _Wait, was he –_

– Jin sends the thought out of his mind.  _Nah. Probably just something else._

“Yeah,” Jin says, smiling and giving a thumbs up. “I feel a little better. Thanks, Tsukushi!” His head feels lighter, the pain softened at the edges. The noise of the classroom seems bearable without the pulsing pain fluttering behind his eyes. 

Tsukushi nods, shuffling back to his seat. “I’m glad,” he says, but it sounds distracted, weak. 

_Wonder what’s gotten into him?_

The class bell interrupts his thoughts, and he sighs, leaning over and burying his head in his arms. 

_This is gonna be a long day._

* * *

 “– Kazama-kun!”

Tsukushi’s voice startles him from his sleep, causing Jin to twitch awake with a start. Tsukushi slides his notebook onto Jin’s desk triumphantly, and Jin stares blankly at the pages, filled to the brim with detailed notes.

“These are…”  _Really messy._ “These are really detailed, Tsukushi.”

Tsukushi looks anxious, eyes scanning Jin’s face. “E-eh, well, I didn’t really know what was important during the lecture, so I just copied everything down, just in case!”

“How did you manage to write fast enough?” Jin asks, staring incredulously at the sheer amount of writing that fills the sheets of paper. Tsukushi laughs weakly, waving a hand dismissively.

“I just raised my hand and asked the teacher to repeat something, and wrote down what they were saying before while they were distracted,” Tsukushi explains, and Jin cringes internally.  _So you derailed the lecture for everyone else…_

Still, it’s an impressive effort, and Jin’s chest fills with something warm and proud and grateful. He reaches out, ruffing Tsukushi’s hair. “Thanks again,” he says, smiling. “For everything.”

Tsukushi looks at him like he’s said something silly, but dips his head gratefully. “I’ll continue to try my best to take better notes for you in the future!”  _So needlessly polite,_  Jin thinks, laughing to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.

* * *

 At practice, it’s not much better.

Jin fails to hear his teammate’s calls, stumbling over vital passes. He still manages to score the goals, but only barely – and with only a fraction of his usual grace. He knows that the others can tell, but he’s more concerned with the pain that pounds insistently around his skull when he runs, the bright burst of hypersensitivity that flares up when Mizuki blows the whistle, shrill noise grating against Jin’s eardrums.

Kurusu corners him during a break, passing him a bottle of water. He hesitates before speaking, eyes flitting around Jin’s legs, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Hey,” Kurusu says, gruffly. “You, uh…” 

Kurusu trails off, crossing his arms and tapping his foot against the ground, irritated. Jin waits, confused. Suddenly, Kurusu jabs his finger against Jin’s chest, voice almost painfully loud.

“Don’t overwork yourself, idiot!” he yells, and Jin tries not to wince.

“I’m fine,” Jin says, but his voice sounds half-hearted even to his own ears.

“Like hell you are,” Kurusu snarls. “Tsukamoto’s too scared to say anything because he doesn’t want to take away the first chance you’ve had to play in weeks, but unlike you two monsters, I’m a normal human being who cares about things other than soccer – like my teammates’ wellbeing. So stop pushing yourself like this!”

“What’s it to you, anyways?” Jin asks, stubbornly. He moves to push aside Kurusu, heading back towards the field, but Kurusu grabs his arm, tugging him backwards. “Oi, what’s your problem?”

“What’s  _your_  problem? You’re obviously hurt – I can see it. Tsukamoto can see it. Hell, half the team can see it.”

“I’m  _fine_ ,” he insists, and Kurusu lets out an ugly noise of frustration, pushing him backwards. Jin stumbles, just barely managing to right himself.

“Take a break, Kazama.” Jin’s about to whip up a snappy retort when Kurusu speaks again. “I’m not the only one who’s worried – you think Tsukamoto wants to see you hurting yourself like this? You’re not alone now, dumbass. You have Seiseki – you have the  _team._  We’ve got your back.”

And,” Kurusu continues, placing a firm hand on Jin’s shoulder, “when you need to take time off, we’ll be here, playing extra hard for you. That’s what teams do. That’s what friends do, hell. So  _take a damn break_ , geez.”

Jin’s stunned into silence, staring blankly at Kurusu, who begins to turn red. “Oi, don’t just stand there. Say something already!”

“A-ah,” Jin says, looking down.  _I guess he’s right._   _I won’t last much longer if I keep pushing myself. I’m no use to anyone in this state._  “Yeah.”

Kurusu sighs loudly, muttering something that Jin can’t make out, again. “For someone so smart, you can really be dense sometimes, huh?” Kurusu says, turning away. “Sit it out for the rest of today. Get some rest.”

Jin watches Kurusu storm off, feeling as if he’s missed something.  _I’m not alone, huh?_

* * *

Days pass by in a flash, and before Jin knows it, he’s at the hospital again. The halls are too bright, tacky florescent lighting highlighting the stark sickly white of the walls, the ever-present smell of disinfectant only barely covering the strange chemical smells of sickness in the background. Jin bounces his leg anxiously, glancing around.  _I hate these places._  

A bored-sounding nurse calls his name, and he gets to his feet shakily, forcing himself to march over to the front desk. She mouths something that looks like Jin’s name, but something about it sounds off, doesn’t register in his mind.

“Yes,” he says, anyways, letting her lead him over to another room. 

“– doctor will be here in a minute,” she says, and he nods, sneaking a glance at her chest for good measure.  _Not bad._  He’s strangely smug about it, as if it’s reaffirmed his heterosexuality –  _or, what’s it now? Bisexuality?_ Jin sighs.  _It’s all so much of a pain. I like who I like, I guess._

Jin looks up as the doctor walks in, a kind looking man in a white coat who makes idle small talk with him as he sets up a strange looking box, covered with knobs and buttons, hooked up to a pair of earphones. The doctor passes Jin the earphones, gesturing for him to put them on, before passing him a buzzer. 

“We’re going to start with a simple test,” the doctor says. “Just hit the buzzer when you hear the beeps.”

Chirps ring out from both sides before alternating, and Jin feels relief hit him when he has no trouble identifying the noises, even up to the last setting on the machine. The doctor hums thoughtfully, glancing at his clipboard, and nods to himself.

“You said that you had trouble making out people’s speech?”

“Yeah,” Jin says, stabbing his hands into his pockets and leaning back. “I hear it fine, it’s just –”

“The meaning gets lost, right?” the doctor asks, and Jin hesitates, surprised, before nodding. The doctor purses his lips, tapping his pen against the clipboard, before putting it down.

“There’s good news and bad news,” he says, speaking slowly and clearly, and Jin tenses. “The good news is that you don’t have any hearing loss – your hearing is fine. The problem lies in your brain. When you were hit, the trauma caused some damage to the centers of your brain that help you tie incoming speech to its meaning. That’s why you’ve been experiencing these symptoms.”

“Is it permanent?” he asks, before he can stop himself. The doctor tips his head.

“There’s no way to tell. If I had to guess, I’d say no – but brain injuries are hard to predict. It could clear up in days, months, or…” 

_Never_ , Jin completes for him. Jin nods, fingers curling up where they rest on his legs.  _It’s probably temporary,_  he tells himself. 

(–  _but what if it’s not?_ )

* * *

 Jin’s scared – terrified of what it might mean, of what might happen. He thinks of his team, thinks of the sounds of the crowd, cheering his team on. He thinks of Tsukushi’s voice, bright and resounding.

_Will I lose all of that?_

* * *

 It’s only been a day or two when it all falls apart.

“Kazama-kun!” Tsukushi calls his name from across the stairwell, and Jin turns, hesitantly. Tsukushi stomps over to him, looking strangely upset. “You haven’t been eating lunch with me,” Tsukushi says, and he sounds so disappointed that a pang of guilt spikes through Jin’s chest. “And – and you haven’t been coming to practice.”

“I – sorry,” he says, looking down. Tsukushi’s silent for a long moment, and when Jin finds the courage to look up again, he’s horrified to see tears forming in the other boy’s eyes.

“Have I done something wrong?” Tsukushi asks, and Jin closes his eyes, hating himself for his weakness. Jin steps closer, putting a hand on Tsukushi’s arm.

“Of course not,” Jin says, gently, and he tightens his grip on Tsukushi’s arm when he refuses to look up at Jin. “Hey, it’s not you. Seriously, Tsukushi…”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Tsukushi accuses, and Jin grits his teeth.  _Of course he’d notice._

“It’s not on purpose, Tsukushi,” he tries, and when Tsukushi speaks again, he sounds so sad that Jin can’t help it, taking another step closer.

“It’s – it’s okay if Kazama-kun wants to hang out with his other friends,” Tsukushi murmurs, and Jin hears the implication in it clear as day. 

_(“Why would Kazama want to hang out with me in the first place?_ ”)

Jin shakes his head, bringing a hand up under Tsukushi’s chin, forcing him to look up.

“It has nothing to do with you, Tsukushi, I promise. It’s just – things have been tough, okay?” He can’t say what he’s really thinking – how could he?  _I can’t stand the thought of losing this. God, Tsukushi, I don’t know what I’m doing._ For once, he has absolutely no idea what’s going to happen to him, and the lack of control is maddening. 

“Tell me,” Tsukushi insists. “Does it have to do with your injury?” Jin pulls a face, but he nods reluctantly. Tsukushi takes a slow step forward, wrapping his arms softly around Jin’s torso – a loose hug. Jin takes it gratefully, crossing his arms across the back of Tsukushi’s shoulders, burying his face in Tsukushi’s hair, feeling his heart squeeze painfully in his ribs. He huffs out a bitter laugh, pressing a stealthy kiss lightly to the top of Tsukushi’s head.

“I’m scared, Tsukushi,” Jin admits, closing his eyes. “I’m scared of being like this forever. I can’t – I can’t lose soccer. I can’t lose –” His throat closes in on itself, cutting him off, and he swallows, thickly.

_I can’t lose your voice._

He feels Tsukushi grip the back of his shirt, feels Tsukushi breathe out against his chest.

“You should have told us,” Tsukushi says, soft. “You’re not alone, Kazama-kun. You have us. You have – you have me,” he says, tentatively.

“Funny,” Jin says. “That’s the second time that I’ve heard that, recently.”

“It’s true, though. I – I wish I could help,” Tsukushi mutters, miserably, and Jin wants to laugh, feels the love in him bubble up and spill over because Jin doesn’t deserve this. He’s avoided Tsukushi, distanced himself from the team, and Tsukushi’s the one who feels  _bad_  for not being able to help. 

_He’s unbelievable._ Jin slides a hand up to the back of Tsukushi’s neck, feeling brave.

“You’ve already done a lot, Tsukushi,” Jin retorts, pulling slightly away. Tsukushi’s so close, and – Jin looks away, because his eyes are too wide, too piercing, too  _close_ , and it’s all Jin can do to stop himself from closing the distance.

“I wish I could do more,” Tsukushi whispers, finally, voice trembling, and Jin reaches out to catch a tear before it falls. Tsukushi grabs his wrist, holding it against his cheek, and Jin feels his legs turn to lead. 

“Don’t cry,” Jin says, weakly, because he doesn’t know what to do, and now he’s made Tsukushi upset, and  _god,_  what is he even doing? His hand opens up, thumb swiping across Tsukushi’s cheekbone, and Jin feels his fingers tremble.  _When did I get so weak?_

“I like you, Kazama-kun,” Tsukushi finally says, straight-forward and direct, though his cheeks are on fire, gaze locked on the ground. “And – and I want to do my best to make you happy. I – I understand if, ah, if this is weird, or disgusting, or – if we can’t be friends anymore, I just –” Tsukushi shrugs a little, shrinking in on himself. 

“I needed you to know,” Tsukushi finishes, and Jin is so shocked he can’t do anything but stare, frozen in place. 

_Even in this: he’s always been the braver one, hasn’t he?_

Jin forces himself to move, lets himself duck in and press a kiss to Tsukushi’s lips. He pulls back halfway, leaning down and hiding his face in Tsukushi’s shoulder. 

“I really like you too, Tsukushi,” he mumbles into Tsukushi’s shirt, and he’s almost afraid that this is a dream, thinks for a terrible moment that this isn’t real. 

 Then, Tsukushi’s hands are reaching up and carding through his hair, gentle on his neck, and Jin lets himself shiver, leaning back into it. 

_I really like him,_ Jin thinks.  _I don’t know what to do._

“C-can you do that again?” Tsukushi asks, voice small and tremulous. “The – the kiss.” 

Jin complies, and he’s the one who has to break it again, smiling so wide his cheek threatens to cramp up. Tsukushi’s bright red, but there’s joy, radiant and fierce, painted across his smile – and Jin could get lost in it.  

“Come back to practice,” Tsukushi says, resolutely. “No matter what.”

“I –”

“It’s not the same without you on the pitch.” 

Jin stares, tracing patterns across Tsukushi’s neck. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, acquiescing. “Fine.” 

* * *

Stepping back on the pitch feels like coming home. 

Jin breathes it in, jersey crisp at his back and turf soft under his feet, the familiar give of his cleats anchoring him firmly to the ground. He can do this. 

Kurusu walks over to him, clapping him hard on the shoulder. 

“When I said take a break, I didn’t mean ditch practice, dumbass.”

Jin scoffs, giving Kurusu a smug smile. “As if I need the practice anyways,” he says flippantly. Kurusu glares daggers at him, a passable impression of Kimishita, and Jin beams. 

“Still,” Kurusu sighs. “Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be back.” Jin pauses, deliberating. “And Kurusu – thank you.”

Kurusu stares at him before shaking his head, giving him a good-natured flick to the forehead. “Idiot.”

Tsukushi chooses that moment to run over to them, smile wide. 

“Kurusu-kun, you’re not being mean to Kazama-kun, are you?” His tone is light and joking, though it makes Jin think.  _Ah… Tsukushi… we’re dating now, right? You should drop the honorifics…_

Jin laughs, slinging an arm around Tsukushi’s shoulder. “Nah, Kurusu’s just playing around.” 

He sends a wink Kurusu’s way when he slides his hand minutely up, thumb catching on Tsukushi’s collar and stroking the soft skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

Kurusu’s eyes widen, and he almost trips over himself, face blazing bright red. “So, you –”

“Looks like it,” Jin comments, breezily, and Kurusu stares at them for a long moment before he looks up at the sky, exhaling. “Wouldn’t go around telling people, though,” Jin adds, warningly. 

“Well, less competition for us,” Kurusu says, after a beat, giving Jin an understanding look. Mizuki interrupts them with a blow of the whistle, sending them back into the frenetic flow of the practice game.  

Jin dashes forward, intercepting a pass between Usui and Nitobe, dribbling past them to rush towards the goal. 

“– m’open!” he hears Kurusu’s voice call, and Jin doesn’t think about it before he squares the pass solidly across the field. Kurusu receives the pass deftly, and they share a quick one-two, getting it past Usui’s harsh defense. 

“Kazama!” Tsukushi calls, from his left, and Jin makes a split-second decision, feinting forward before squaring hard to Tsukushi, who goes for the kick. It lands, solid, and the ball goes flying past Nakijin, crashing hard into the back of the net. 

Jin pumps his fist, triumphant, feeling the victory rush run through him. Kurusu reaches him first, and they share a sloppy one-armed hand clasp, mutually pulling in to bump each other amiably on the shoulder. 

“Nice pass,” Jin says, and Kurusu’s lips quirk up. 

“You too,” Kurusu says, and Jin smiles before pulling away, turning to Tsukushi. 

“Nice shot,” Jin says, and the grin Tsukushi gives him is blinding. He runs a hand through Tsukushi’s hair, brushing back his bangs, and gives him a thumbs up. 

Kurusu facepalms, giving Jin a glare. “Oi, you fucker, public displays of affection are prohibited on the pitch.”

“Prohibited? That’s a long word, Kurusu. I’m proud.”

Jin locks eyes with him, glancing around before leaning in quickly to peck Tsukushi on the forehead, laughing as Kurusu turns bright red. Tsukushi smiles, leaning into Jin’s side. 

“You two are disgusting,” Kurusu mutters, but there’s no bite to it. Something in Jin’s chest unfolds, relieved, and he rolls his eyes. 

“Jealous?” he asks, and Kurusu’s jaw goes lax in shock. 

“A-as if,” Kurusu sputters, pointing at Jin. “I thought you were the one that was quick to check girls out, anyways! Or, eh, just their tits, I guess.”

Jin taps his chin, the model of a man deep in thought. “Yeah, you’re right. If only Tsukushi had breasts,” he murmurs sarcastically. 

Tsukushi flushes scarlet and Kurusu laughs, ruffling Tsukushi’s hair. 

“I’d like to see that,” Kurusu says – and suddenly, Jin realizes that he’s followed their entire conversation without a problem.

It’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, a speck of hope growing on the horizon.  _Maybe I’ll be fine_ , Jin thinks. 

_Maybe everything will be fine._

* * *

After practice, Tsukushi comes over to his place. It’s a small apartment, but it’s too empty for himself alone. 

He tries not to spend much time there. 

When Tsukushi’s there, though, the space lights up, as if he’s a fire, warming all the places that’d been filled with loneliness for so long. They crash on Jin’s couch, and Jin puts on a shitty romcom while Tsukushi does his homework.  

“So,” Jin starts, quietly. “We’re dating, then,” Tsukushi looks at him for a second before looking down, reaching over and taking Jin’s hand. Jin spreads his hand out, letting Tsukushi’s fingers slot between his own and feeling a buzz of warmth slide up his arm and into his chest. 

“I’d like that,” Tsukushi replies, and his smile is soft, prodding insistently at a slow ache between Jin’s ribs. Jin leans over, resting their foreheads together, and takes a slow breath. He’s so happy he could cry, but this is nothing like the elation of winning a game – it’s something subtle, something that creeps beneath his skin, through his veins, making him dizzy with it. 

Tsukushi leans up, closing the gap between their lips, and Jin feels his eyes close, his stomach fluttering. 

_It’s ridiculous how much I like him._ Jin brings a hand up to cup Tsukushi’s cheek, thumb brushing over the edge of his eye. Jin kisses him lightly again and again and again, until his head is spinning. 

“I really like you, y’know,” Jin murmurs against Tsukushi’s lips, and he – he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve Tsukushi, this amazing boy who is sunshine personified, who is the most caring person Jin’s ever met. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve being able to hold him like this, to be able to kiss him and for it to be  _okay_. 

Tsukushi smiles, flushing, and Jin is ridiculously lost in it. Tsukushi pulls back, turning to his side and leaning back against Jin’s shoulder, resting his notebook on his knees. 

“Kazama-kun,” he starts, hesitantly. Jin waits for him to continue – after a long beat, he does. “You – you had girlfriends, before.”

“Yeah,” he says blankly. “What about it?”

Tsukushi is silent, and Jin turns, prodding him in the side. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know,” Tsukushi replies, and Jin frowns. 

“Do you like girls?” Jin asks, tipping his head to the side, leaning it against Tsukushi’s. 

“I – I think so,” Tsukushi stammers. “But I like you, too. A lot. I think I just want to make someone happy – I don’t know if who they are matters as much as that.”

Jin wants to laugh, because it’s so  _Tsukushi,_  because of course he’s only wanted to make someone  _happy_ , with no thought for himself. 

“I like girls,” Jin says, slowly. “But I like guys, too, I guess. I haven’t thought about it much.”

Tsukushi hums in agreement, pencil scratching against the paper, but says nothing. 

“Does it matter?” 

Tsukushi puts down his pencil, fingers tapping rhythmically against the paper. He pauses, as if searching for words, and when Tsukushi speaks, he’s strangely serious.

“I want you to be able to go on dates,” he begins. “I want to hold hands with you and kiss you and – I don’t want you to have to worry about what others will think.”

Jin thinks about the shock that had crossed Kurusu’s face, thinks about the overwhelming relief that’d rolled through him like a wave when the other first-year had taken it in stride. He pulls up memories of harsh words, vague threats that’d materialized after he’d started growing his hair out, thinks about all the fights, all the bullies. 

“I just don’t know if it’s worth it to you,” Tsukushi finishes. Jin leans back, sighing, before reaching over and clasping his hand around Tsukushi’s wrist, bringing his hand to Jin’s lips. Jin brushes a kiss over the back of his hand, shaking his head.

“Who cares what other people think?”  _Of course it’s worth it, dumbass – of course you’re worth it._ “Stop overthinking, Tsukushi." 

“E-eh, I’m sorry! I just –”

Jin interrupts him. “Let’s go on a date, then. Sunday. I’m free.”

Tsukushi looks at him for a long moment, eyes wide, before turning around, burying his face in Jin’s neck and nodding. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Tsukushi says, quietly, and Jin lets out a frustrated noise, tipping Tsukushi’s jaw up with his hand and pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“You deserve the world,” Jin murmurs, before he ruffles Tsukushi’s hair. “Anyways, you’ve got me, and that’s almost as good.”

* * *

He has a follow-up appointment with the audiologist the next day. The doctor plays words and sentences over a speaker, and Jin notices that he’s getting better at catching the meanings and repeating them back. He only misses one, and the doctor gives him a smile.

“It should clear up in a few weeks,” he says, and Jin breathes out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

_I want to hear his voice clearly._

* * *

The arcade is crowded, swarming with teenagers and children alike. The noise swims by Jin’s ears, and he reaches out, clasping Tsukushi’s hand. 

“So I don’t lose you,” he says, giving Tsukushi a sly wink. He scans the floor, looking for familiar games. 

“Have you played Time Crisis?” Jin asks, squeezing Tsukushi’s hand. Tsukushi shakes his head, and through the dim fluorescent lighting Jin can see the blush on his cheeks. He lets his thumb trail over the back of Tsukushi’s hand, meets Tsukushi’s eyes with a grin. Around them, the noise of the arcade buzzes on, a jackpot ringing out in the background. 

Tsukushi lets Jin lead him over to the game booth, where he picks up the plastic gun hesitantly, scooting back and putting a shaky leg on the pedal. 

“A-ah, I’m not too sure I’ll be good at this,” he mumbles. 

Jin laughs and swipes their game card anyway.  

* * *

They’re in a park outside the mall, swinging absently on the rusty swingset. Jin watches Tsukushi, affection warm in his veins. 

“Did you have a good time?” 

“Yeah,” Tsukushi says, beaming. “I really did.”

“I’m glad,” Jin says, getting up. He walks over to Tsukushi, hand grasping the swing’s chain to stop its motion. Jin leans down, hesitant. 

Tsukushi tilts his head up to meet him and their lips meet – once, twice, Tsukushi sucking tentatively at Jin’s bottom lip. There’s a graze of teeth, and Jin jolts backwards, hand flying to his mouth, bright red. 

“Was that bad?” Tsukushi asks, worriedly.

“N-no,” Jin stutters, swiping a hand over his face.  _God, Jin, you’ve kissed people before, get a grip._ “It was good. You just surprised me.” 

He raises a hand to Tsukushi’s neck, sliding up to his jaw before kissing him again, soft, before deepening the kiss. Tsukushi grasps at the hem of his shirt, opening up into it, and Jin swipes his tongue over Tsukushi’s bottom lip before pulling back, turning away in embarrassment. 

_I thought I was supposed to be cool, damn it._

When Jin glances back, Tsukushi’s still bright red, his hand touching his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the ground. 

“I-it’s getting dark,” Jin says, hastily. “Let’s start heading back.”

Tsukushi jumps to his feet, the swing rattling behind him. “Y-yes!”

They walk back together, hands clasped the whole way, and when Tsukushi breathes out a shaky laugh, Jin hears it loud and clear, feels the same exhilaration unfurling its wings, heady and bright in his chest.


End file.
